


Rufioh/(female)Reader

by Sinderlin



Series: Reader Fucks The World [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, What am I doing, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:25:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinderlin/pseuds/Sinderlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request fill for readerxRufioh. How does one write Rufioh? We shall never know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rufioh/(female)Reader

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BardsAmbrosia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardsAmbrosia/gifts).



> i dont know how to write rufioh and shh horuss isnt a thing in this dsgsgd

You've started sleeping a lot more lately, floating in and out of other people's remembered lives in the crazy dreamscape patchwork of the bubbles. All the different people you meet and places you see are so strange and wonderful that the banality of the waking world hardly seems real. Almost everyone in the bubbles has a cloudy haze over their eyes, and you often run into these parallels of humans with grey skin and candy corn horns. They're odd and surreal but mostly kind and always let you explore the shreds of their world they're hanging onto. Their sharp-toothed smiles are unnerving but heartfelt, greeting you nightly.

One in particular is always grinning when you see him in his memories, whether alone or surrounded by friends. He greets you with a wave whenever you pass through, pointing you out to his friends so they know who he's waving to. It seems like everyone likes him, and you can see why by the way he jokes around with them and laughs so openly. You heard one of his friends make a biting remark towards him, but he just smiled awkwardly and shrugged it off. He shoved his hands in his pockets and carried on after that.

You catch him alone often enough to get in quick conversations with him. He apparently likes to hear about adventures and nods and comments appropriately when you yammer on about the awesome things you stumble across in the dreambubbles and the waking world. When you ask, he shares a few stories from his life with you and amends them with little details gathered in the afterlife. His eyes, though milky, gleam with excitement when he recounts his experiences to you. He's almost childish in his kindness and energy, and it's wondrously refreshing.

He warns you about his particularly crazy ex out of the blue one day, lips drawn tight and shoulders lifted high, as though he felt her eyes boring into the back of his head. He tells you that she never took the breakup well and that she says some pretty weird stuff, and to let her down gently and run if she tries to wrangle you into anything. You tell him you will with a worried look and ask if it would be okay to tell you what happened between the two of them. He tells you about her obsessive and cold treatment and follows it up with an assurance that he forgave her for it already. He's a lighthearted but not entirely carefree guy. You smile apologetically and rub his back until his forced smile relaxes back into his natural easygoing grin.

He swings his arm around to pat your back in turn and slips back into the easy groove of joking around. It feels too normal after such a sombre warning, so you stop him and ask him to tell you more about his adventures instead. His eyes widen and his hands stop mid-gesture, evidently surprised at the subject jump but excited to describe his favorite travels to you. His grin widens and lights up his face as he starts in on an intrepid adventure through the temperate forests off the coast where one of his friends lived. The late-night purple skies had gleamed with stars, and the cool sea breeze rustled through the leaves. The scenery around the two of you shifts as he pulls up vivid memories of his flights through the forest. The sweet salt of seaside forest air fills your lungs while birdsong fills the bubble. You can see light-winged tinkerbulls materializing as he recounts their playful nature, and long-bodied otterlike animals slink in as he tells you of their delicate trailing tails.

The world around the two of you swirls with color and sound, and friendly animals sweep by your legs with curious looks and jump around him happily. You laugh and smile along with him while he rolls along into his favorite memories. You sit for hours in the sweeping plains and towering mountains of his mind, asking him about the sights and sounds he loved the most until your voice becomes rough and scratchy. He tells you with regret tinging his voice that you should probably rest, meaning wake up, and come visit him some other time once he notices the sand-scraped texture of your tone. You don't want to go; he's so sweet and fun to talk with. He tells you that he'll be waiting with the best story yet once you come back, but he won't tell you unless you get some rest. You see flashes of bright, multicolor crystals in his dreamscape and flash an equally bright grin at him, agreeing. You wave goodbye to him and force yourself awake, letting the fading image of him sitting casually covered in memory animals stick with you as you slide into the waking world.

Almost a day later, the gravel finally leaves your voice and you flop down on your makeshift bed. As soon as you've drifted off, you start sliding through the dreambubbles until you see familiar wide, heavyset horns. You stroll up to him and greet him with a hug, telling him you're excited for his special story. The scenery shifts before he even opens his mouth, and you can see carvings and purple cave walls fading in over and around you. His eyes gleam and he grabs your hand, tugging you along as he explains that he wants to show you the most beautiful thing he'd ever found in life. He stresses the 'in life' part with a wink at you, making you snort and roll your eyes.

You round a corner in the cave and find yourself in a cavern of gorgeous sparkling crystals in every color you could imagine, and more. Glow worms strewn throughout the crystals light them up like stars, glistening off the pools of colorful, cloudy water below. His arm slips around your waist, and he points out how the crystals mirror constellations in the Alternian sky. The crystals light his face in a rainbow, making his eyes shine like opals. Without thinking, you lean over and press your lips against the corner of his mouth. The cold, wet air of the cave makes you shiver and scoot closer to him even as you pull away. He's shocked speechless-well, almost speechless by your sudden move. He asks if you want to be his matesprit and you nod, pressing close to his side and enjoying the way the shimmering light plays across his features. He tilts his head down and gives you a light peck on the lips, smiling.

After that, you start spending even more time together. You get to know him through and through, and were he still alive, he'd trust you with his life. You make dates memories of his most calm places, laughing about this and that with his arm around your waist. He learns to kiss you without scraping you with his needly teeth, and you practice french kissing under cool blue trees. Finally, he brings up memories of his old home and invites you in. It's structured openly, and feels comfortably familiar. He leads the way to the main room and flops down on some old pile of cushions he used as a couch. You gladly join him, curling up against his side. 

He runs his fingers through your hair and asks if you'd be willing to take your relationship a little further. You smile up at him and tell him you would. He leans down and presses your lips together softly, gently resting his hand on your knee. You reach up and slide his vest off his shoulders, moving your hand up to cup his face. He drags his fingers slowly, sensually, up your thigh and pauses just below your hip. It takes you a moment of insistent prodding for him to part his lips and let you in, but you can tell by the warm flush rising in his cheeks that he's just nervous. He follows the curve of your waist up, rubbing his thumb over the swell of your breast. You let a contented sigh slip from your lips to his as he works, one hand just below your hip and one massaging your breast. His eyes are lidded and warm when you bother to look, and you feel your heart flutter. 

You push him back with a flashy grin, prying his hands away to pull off your shirt. He reluctantly sits back, busying himself by undressing as well. Once you've stripped down to your underwear, you see that he's struggling to get his shirt over his head. You giggle and tug him over, stretching his collar one way and over one horn, and then the other. He apologizes and comments that that was lame of him, but you tell him it was fine. He pops the button on his pants and shimmies them off, shyly keeping his legs pressed closed while you watch. You peel off the last of his clothes and tell him to get rid of his boxers as well. He relaxes marginally and you can see the slowly twisting coil of his bulge pressing against the front of his boxers. You smile and grab his waistband, tugging it off his hips.

He presses one hand in to the small of your back and slides his other up your leg, leaning in to nibble on your ear. It tickles and you giggle as you lay back on the makeshift couch. You part your legs and twine them over his after pulling him down on top of you. His bulge writhes against your stomach, stuck between your bodies until he tilts his hips up and allows it to poke about curiously. You can't help giggling a little again; he's so shy and kind, even while he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and sucks on your neck. You feel his bulge carefully squeezing into you, wiggling ever so gently between the labia and stretching you over him slowly but surely.

His breath is hot and wet on your skin as his hips come flush with yours. You trace his spine and the curve of his throat while he starts a lazy rhythm. He smiles against your jaw and rocks his hips a little harder, bulge twisting eagerly inside you. You moan at the perfect harmony of smooth undulations and roll your hips up to meet his, quickly taking the pace to fever pitch. He tries to censor himself while he gasps and moans, holding you tight. It feels unlike anything else, and so good, and you drift through the bliss until hot rolling waves in your groin make you cry out and tense harshly around him. He yanks your hips up, face buried in your neck as he pulls a bucket from his sylladex. When he's sure you're through, he quickly pulls out and finishes himself off over the bucket. You hear thick liquid pouring into the bucket and sigh. The flow peters out to a final tiny plip in the bucket, and he puts it away. He pulls you up and worms his way under you, holding you on top of his chest.

He tells you he loves you and that he hopes you don't regret what you've done with him. You tell him you love him too and that you don't regret anything. He holds you tighter and nuzzles your hair affectionately. You don't know if he can sleep, being dead, but you lie with him for a few more hours before waking anyhow.


End file.
